


there are no miracles here

by smallgrown (tothemoonandbackmydear)



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Found Families, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27832210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tothemoonandbackmydear/pseuds/smallgrown
Summary: The police officers said he was in shock. The shitty therapists the state would send him to said he wasn’t coping, he needed to release the pent up emotions inside of him. One of his more memorable social workers, a lovely old woman named Linda, had said he was a sociopath.Tommy didn’t feel like he needed to release anything. He wasn’t a sociopath, no matter how much Linda tried to convince his therapist he needed to be committed before he ended up like his father.__________________________________(Literally gibberish where Phil is a badass social worker, Tommy is a problem child and found families are the most important thing in the world.)
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 65
Kudos: 502





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> tommy, if you find this:  
> i'm sorry i killed your mom in this. my bad, dude. 
> 
> trigger warnings for each chapter will be at the end.  
> be safe! 
> 
> also, i messed with the ages a smidge, so for reference:  
> tommy: 15  
> wilbur: 20  
> techno: 19

“We can’t keep doing this, Thomas.” 

Tommy slumped further down in the overstuffed armchair he was currently trapped in. He kept his mask of indifference as he stared out the window conveniently placed behind his current social workers head. He couldn’t remember her name. Tina? Tami? Something with a T, he was sure of it. His last social worker, a lovely man named Barry, had requested a transfer just a few months ago. He had been sat in an armchair not unlike the one he was sitting in now. 

Barry had looked at him apologetically, his beady eyes sad behind his wire framed glasses. Sweat had dotted his forehead and upper lip and he dabbed it away with a grimy looking handkerchief as he informed Tommy of his request for a new social worker to help find Tommy his ‘forever home’. 

“Tommy, lad. I feel as if your particular issues are a bit above my understanding. I am terribly sorry, I truly believe you are a nice, fine boy at heart-”

Blah blah blah.

Same shit his last two social workers before Barry spewed before running for the hills. His ‘issues’ seemed to make him difficult to place, as all that had come before Tamara (he was close, he can feel it) had informed him. Find your mother murdered in the kitchen by your own father once and suddenly you’re “traumatized” and “need extensive therapy”. It was a bunch of shit, if you asked him. It wasn’t like his mother was the best parent in the world. In fact, after he got over the shock of finding her lying on the kitchen tile in a pool of her own blood, he hadn’t even been able to shed a tear. The police officers said he was in shock. The shitty therapists the state would send him to said he wasn’t coping, he needed to release the pent up emotions inside of him. One of his more memorable social workers, a lovely old woman named Linda, had said he was a sociopath. 

Tommy didn’t feel like he needed to release anything. He wasn’t a sociopath, no matter how much Linda tried to convince his therapist he needed to be committed before he ended up like his father. He just couldn't muster up the energy to cry for someone who didn’t even seem like his mother. She had never acted like it. And his father. Don’t even get him started on that piece of absolute fucking-

“Six homes.” 

Tommy snapped out of his thoughts with a blink, Tamales (wait, that was fucking food-) voice had been steadily rising in volume as she seemed to catch on he was more interested in the London skyline than her shitty reason as to why she had felt the need to call this little meeting. Pulled him out of school and everything, the tie around his neck like a noose and the sweat from running to and from classes all day pooling under his arms. Gross, he could really go for a shower right about now-

“Thomas, are you even listening. Please, look at me. This is actually quite serious.” Trina (no, no still not right-) waved an annoying manicured hand in front of his face and he finally dragged his eyes away from the window to look at her pinched expression. She was wearing too much makeup. It was caking around her mouth and on her forehead. Black gunk was gathering in the corners of her eyes as she stared at him intently. He wrinkled his nose and turned his gaze to the little hula girl bobble head sitting on the edge of the desk. He wondered idly if her skirt was made from actual grass. 

“Yes, quite serious indeed. Sorry, what were you saying?” Tommy yawned loudly, shifting to sit forward in his armchair. 

“Six homes, Thomas. You have been through six different foster homes in less than two years. Running away, skipping school, fights, honestly Tom.” She looked at him in exasperation and he grinned widely back at her. He could practically feel her annoyance from here. It was wonderful. 

“Listen, the last one wasn’t even my fault. The giant dick took the last fruit medley cup, Tina. Fruit medley! He saw me going for it too, the prick. Practically pushed me out of the way to reach for it. It was a little love tap, honestly. He didn’t even get a bruise-”

“That is not even close to being the point, Tom and I know you know that. And my name is Trinity, Thomas. For the love of God.” Trinity said, her voice shrill as she clacked away on her keyboard. Tommy rolled his eyes and flopped backwards. His eyes felt gritty and his mouth was gummy. He needed to chug at least ten glasses of water and take a four hour nap before being even remotely interested in continuing this conversation. 

Trinity sighed loudly and Tommy dragged his eyes over to meet hers. She was looking at him almost sadly and he raised his eyebrows at her. 

“I am going to be blunt here, Tom. I’m switching case files. You’re being transferred.” 

The again was left unspoken but rang loudly in the small office. Tommy felt his heart thump painfully in his chest for a moment before shoving whatever feeling trying to make itself known away. He should have seen this coming. He has only been placed with Trinity for three months. In that time, he had been moved twice. In his defense, his last foster father was a bastard who locked Tommy in a small hall closet as punishment. He called it the “Thinking Room.” Tommy had been locked in the closet for two days before he decided yelling wasn’t working and made his own way out. His foster father hadn’t appreciated that too much and Tommy had been pulled from the home with a black eye from ‘falling into the doorframe as he destroyed it in a fit of teenage rage’ and a newfound hatred for small spaces. He tried to tell Trinity that his black eye was actually gifted to him by his foster fathers knuckles and the door frame was completely innocent, but she had done nothing but scold him for telling lies and said “Mister Ellis is a nice man, Thomas, have some respect and pack your things immediately.” 

“...name is Phil. He is a wonderful man. Was actually a foster father himself for a while before he adopted his two sons, lovely boys. Only a little older than you, I do believe…”

Tommy tuned back into the drone of Trinity’s voice. She was chattering away, refusing to look at him as she typed manically on her keyboard. 

“So you’re dumping me.” Tommy cut her off, crossing his arms over his chest as he kicked his foot against the back of the desk. He saw Trinity’s eye twitch, but she didn’t ask him to stop.

“I am not dumping you, Thomas. Honestly, don’t be so childish. This is how the system works, I’m afraid. I would love to continue helping you, but unfortunately I am being pulled.” She actually did sound a bit sorry as she finished typing on her computer. She sighed quietly before turning to face him directly. 

Tommy tried not to fidget. He gave the back of her desk an extra sharp kick and watched her close her eyes for a moment before opening them again calmly. 

“Now, I’ve taken the liberty of having the Colton’s send your things here. Phil will be ready for us any minute now.. Be polite, Thomas. You need to learn to cooperate. Everyone here is trying to help you…”

Tommy felt almost detached from his body as he watched Trinity bustle around, getting some paperwork ready for Phil. His new social worker. 

Phil. 

What a disgusting name. He cannot wait to take the absolute piss out of him. 

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Trinity walked him a few floors up to where Phil’s office was. Tommy struggled to carry his school bag and trash bag full of clothes, shoes and his other measly possessions down the narrow hallways. He may have purposefully knocked a few fake ferns out of their pots, but he simply smiled innocently each time Trinity shot him a look and hoisted his trash bag in explanation. 

The petty satisfaction of watching her scoop dirt back into the pots and set the plants back right was so worth it though. 

Now, standing in front of Phil Watson’s door (he had a fancy name plate and everything), his stomach was twisting into knots. 

He never much liked his male social workers. They were always...harsher. More likely to find his insubordination bothersome. He assumed Phil would be no different. An uptight arsehole with a university degree now having to deal with traumatized children while wearing a suit for eight hours a day. Actually, now that he thinks about it, Tommy might also act like a right twat if he was forced to wear a suit and tie for eight hours, five days a week-

The door opened and Tommy was faced with his new social worker. 

He...didn’t look mean. In fact, he was grinning kindly at them as he greeted them with a nice lilting “Good evening, please come in!” and waving them into the office. 

Tommy felt himself hunch forward as he passed by Phil. He could tell the older man was trying to catch his eye, but he refused to look up from the carpet. It was such a lovely pattern. Nice mixture of purples and grays, very nice indeed.

“Please take a seat, Thomas. I’ve got him, Trinity. Thank you.” Phil smiled widely and Trinity handed him the thick manila file she had lugged from her office and with one last look at Tommy, she patted his shoulder kindly and left. He tried his best not to hate her, but he was failing miserably. 

The moment the door closed behind her, Tommy felt his heart start to pump a little faster. Phil’s office was smaller than Trinity’s, the majority of space taken up by a long, comfortable looking couch along one wall. Bookshelves full of books and knick knacks lined the opposite wall. Tommy could see pictures hanging on the wall behind the large oak desk that stood in the middle of the floor, but he didn’t look close enough to actually register the people in them. 

There were no windows. 

His hands were starting to sweat where he was gripping the trash bag closed tightly. He ran his eyes over every inch of the office, steadily ignoring Phil. The man had taken a seat behind his desk, but he was watching Tommy, eyes scanning him for a moment before he was standing back up. It took every ounce of Tommy’s willpower not to flinch when Phil slipped around him. He turned to watch as Phil stopped at the door and pulled it back open, propping the heavy door open with a little stone doorstop painted as a pig. Tommy stared at it a moment before risking a glance at Phil. 

The man was watching him, but his face was open and he smiled slightly when Tommy met his eyes before jerking his head back down to the floor. He tracked Phil’s footsteps as he walked back to his desk and took his seat again. His heart was starting to calm in his chest and he released his deathgrip on the trash bag. 

“Feeling better?” 

Tommy’s head shot up and he glared at Phil on instinct. 

“What?” He snapped and Phil smiled warmly at him. He was starting to hate that smile. So all knowing and shit. He wanted to punch it off the older man's face. He scowled as Phil gestured towards the chair in front of him, but slid into it gracelessly. He dumped his trash bag to the side and stared at the back of a picture frame that sat on the desk. He felt off kilter. He hadn’t truly realized Trinity was transferring him until the moment Phil had opened the door. He blinked his eyes rapidly, they were so dry. He really did need a nap. 

“Alright, Thomas?” Phil asked. His voice seemed to be naturally soft. Tommy hated it. 

“I’m fine. And stop calling me Thomas.” He snapped. His leg bounced jerkily for a moment before he forced himself to stop. 

“Okay, what do you prefer then?” 

“Tommy. Or Tom. I don’t care. Just not fucking Thomas.” 

“Alright, Tommy it is then.” Phil chuckled before finally, finally looking away from Tommy and shook his mouse to wake his computer awake. 

He typed quietly and Tommy felt himself drooping in the quiet of the room. Trinity always talked, jabbering on and on to fill the silence, not caring if Tommy responded to her or not (he never did.) Phil seemed content to sit in silence as he typed on his computer for a moment and Tommy hid a yawn behind his wrist. 

“Feel free to lay on the couch, if you want. I’m just reading a few things in your file then we should be able to head on out.” Phil said suddenly, breaking the silence and Tommy glanced up at him. 

“Where am I going?” He blurted out before he could stop himself. He hadn’t hated the Coltons and he had just started getting used to sleeping on the lumpy mattress in the room he shared with two other boys. Not the best, but at least Mrs. Colton had fed him regularly which was better than some other foster families he had been graced with. 

“For tonight, you’ll be coming home with me. It is unconventional, but we are running short on emergency placements.” Phil smiled at him again and Tommy was beginning to wonder if his face was just frozen like that. 

“Whatever. You don’t look like a pedophile or a serial killer. But if you are, just know I will cut your fucking balls off.” Tommy sneered. He wasn’t sure why he was being nasty, but he didn’t plan on thinking about it too much. Most of his brain capacity was being used to keep his eyes open. God, he was fucking exhausted. 

“Noted. Thank you for that. Go lay down on the couch before you brain yourself on the desk, Tommy.” Phil’s voice was still gentle and Tommy felt a stab of annoyance at having not gotten under the older man’s skin. He took retribution by knocking over a few picture frames on the desk on his way over to the couch. He heard a sharp sigh behind him and he smirked as he sprawled out on the surprisingly fluffy couch. 

The minute he was even slightly horizontal, he felt himself losing the battle of keeping his eyelids open. He blinked sluggishly at the bookshelf across the room for a moment before letting his eyes fall shut. 

The soft sound of Phil typing on his keyboard followed him into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW//  
> mention of child abuse (offscreen), mention of murder, slight description of murder (nothing too graphic) 
> 
> hope you all enjoy! i’ll try to be updating every few days or so. leave me a comment so i can feel good about myself.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS AT THE END OF THE CHAPTER 
> 
> forewarning: i am an american. british slang makes no sense to me and i refuse to be sorry about it. so, if i mix up british slang and american slang, mind ya business. also, i struggle with staying in present or past tense so if i'm all over the place with that, feel free to correct me in the comments and i'll cry about it in my room later. 
> 
> this chapter is a bit heavy, so be sure to check the trigger warnings at the end.

_ Tommy rubbed his hands together, trying unsuccessfully to warm his frozen fingers. It was frigid out, the winter sun hidden by swollen gray clouds, threatening snow in the next coming day or so. The wind had picked up and Tommy zipped his hoodie up to his chin, ducking down into the warm bubble his breathing created.  _

_ It was half four. He knew he was late coming home, not that his mother would notice. Probably more occupied with the current boyfriend of the week. This one was a right asshole, unfortunately. A creepy motherfucker who enjoyed barging in on Tommy as he showered in the morning. He had never done anything other than stare, but the lewd look he gave Tommy was enough to set his teeth on edge. Tommy tried to tell his mom, but she had brushed it off as a bout of teenage vanity and “where else is he supposed to go to the bathroom, Tom?”  _

_ Tommy had ended up handling the problem himself, pretending to shower one morning and when the doorknob turned exactly five minutes after, he rammed the door open right into the bastard's face. The resulting bloody nose had caused a screaming match between Tommy and his mother. But, the creep never tried to come into the bathroom again so Tommy considered it a win.  _

_ The wind whipped his overgrown hair across his forehead. He thought idly of asking his mom if he could get a haircut tomorrow as he dug his house key out of his jean pocket. He went to unlock the door and froze, hand hovering in the air.  _

_ The door was open.  _

_ He hesitated for a moment before pushing it slowly with the tips of his fingers and it swung inwards with a faint creak, the interior of the house a black void in front of him. A chill ran down his spine, suddenly and he shivered. His heart thumped an erratic beat in his throat.  _

_ “Mum?” His voice sounded too loud in the silence of the house. He walked through the mudroom and into the empty living room. The television was on, but muted. Not a single light illuminated the room and Tommy saw why when he stumbled over the broken table lamp on the floor. Glass was crunching under his feet, the lightbulb having shattered. He took a deep breath as he moved quicker than before into the dining room. Something was wrong, something was very wrong. Where was his mom? Where was-  _

_ He gave a short shout of surprise as his feet suddenly slid out from under him. He landed hard on his backside, something wet soaking into the seat of his pants instantly as his hands scrambled through whatever the hell was all over the hardwood floor. The heavy smell of copper flooded his senses and he gagged, bringing a hand up to cover his nose. Time seemed to stop as he brought his hand into view. It was covered in something red. It dripped in globs down his fingers onto his jeans. It was dark red, almost black in color in the low light and it smelled so strongly of pennies he thought maybe it was- _

_ In a burst of movement, he shot forward onto his hands and knees. The motion put him past the counter and into the kitchen.  _

_ Where he saw his mother.  _

_ She gazed blankly at a spot behind him, eyes milky and half closed. The front of her once lilac shirt was brown, almost black.  _

_ A slit in her throat formed a macabre grin under her slack chin.  _

_ Tommy saw all of this like he was watching it through a television screen. His ears were ringing. His hands felt numb where they were pressed against the blood (because it was blood that he had slipped in, his mothers blood-) soaked floor.  _

_ A floorboard creaked somewhere behind him. Everything snapped into focus in a matter of seconds. Tommy tried to get his tingling legs to stand, spinning around on his knees, raising his head to see a figure standing in the doorway of the dining room. The late afternoon sunlight weakly glared off of the butcher knife clutched in a blood covered hand.  _

_ “Tommy.” The figure's voice was loud as it broke the dead silence of the kitchen, ricocheting around the room. Tommy flinched back, scrambled gracelessly onto his bottom, hands slipping in the blood congealing on the floor. His heart was beating too fast. He was going to die. He felt his hand bump into something hard and cold and he gagged as he realized he was pressed against his mothers dead body. The figure took a step forward into the light from the window.  _

_ His father stood in the dining room, haloed by the dying light of the afternoon like some avenging angel. His hand was shaking where he was clutching the knife. His shirt was soaked in blood, glasses askew on his face. He was staring at Tommy blankly, his mouth pressed thin as he took another step forward. He didn’t look like his dad. While he wasn’t around much Tommy couldn’t remember a time when the man wasn’t smiling. Clapping Tommy on the shoulder as he gave him spending money before disappearing again for months. This man in front of him looked nothing like his father, yet he was.  _

_ “Dad?” Tommy’s voice was barely above a whisper. His father blinked slowly before taking the final step into the kitchen. He stared down at Tommy dispassionately. He watched as his father crouched down, knife dangling between his knees. His father opened his mouth to speak, eyes emotionless as he raised the knife in Tommy’s direction. His voice was soft, almost gentle as he said- _

“Tommy?”

Tommy jolted into consciousness with a shuddering gasp. Something was gripping his shoulder tightly, shaking him. He was moving before he even opened his eyes, legs pinwheeling as he scrambled away from his father-

“Tommy!” 

He gasped again, having never caught his breath in the first place. He blinked his blurry vision into submission and panted in an approximate of relief as Phil’s face came into focus. It wasn’t his dad. It wasn’t his father standing over him with a butcher's knife, covered in the blood of the ex-wife he just murdered. It was just fucking Phil. 

Phil, who was crouched on the floor beside Tommy (when had he gotten on the floor, god his fucking head  _ hurt _ -) a good distance away, hands raised like he was trying to calm a cornered animal. Anger burned bright in his chest at the comparison his brain thrusted to the forefront of his mind. He growled in frustration and kicked his legs out at Phil, the toe of his trainers slamming into the older man’s shin. Phil grunted in surprise and pain, falling out of his crouch. Tommy glared at him, sucking in deep lungfuls of air, but he couldn’t seem to actually take in any oxygen. He pulled himself up using the couch as a crutch and managed to get his shaky legs to support him. Phil followed him up, still keeping his distance. His face was concerned, a furrow between his brows and Tommy fucking  _ hates him.  _

“You’re alright, Tommy. You’re safe.” Phil says softly. He is pressing himself almost completely against the bookshelves, putting as much distance between himself and Tommy as he could in the small office space. The anger was growing like a supernova, eating his lungs and making it harder to breath. 

“Fuck you.” He snarls back. He can feel himself shaking, hands balled into fists at his sides. His chest feels tight and he still isn’t pulling in enough air. He hasn’t thought about the day he found his mother in so long. Of course, his subconscious decides to fuck with him the minute he lets himself relax. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to focus on getting his breath back. The anger is slowly burning away, leaving him feeling empty and utterly fucking exhausted. Phil is a silent presence in front of him, simply watching as Tommy steadies his breathing into something resembling normal. His legs feel shaky and he collapses back onto the couch like a puppet whose string has been cut. He keeps his eyes closed so he doesn’t have see Phil’s stupid fucking concerned face looking at him like he’s some damaged fucking child. Fuck him and his fucking concern. 

The quiet of the room begins to make him antsy after a few minutes and Tommy finally cracks his eyelids open to look at Phil. 

The older man instantly smiled at him and Tommy felt like throttling him. 

“Alright?” Phil asked and Tommy didn't even bother to respond, simply raising his middle finger as high as his shaking arm would let him. Phil chuckled and moved away from the bookshelf, making his way back over to his desk. He pressed a few buttons on his keyboard before reaching around his chair and grabbing his coat. He turned back to Tommy, slipping into his coat. 

“Staying or leaving?” He asked. 

“Fuck you.” Tommy said again, but dragged himself to his feet. He slid his school bag onto his back and reached for his trash bag, but Phil beat him to it. 

“I can carry it. I’m not an invalid.” He snapped and Phil simply shrugged, gesturing with his free hand for Tommy to walk out ahead of him. He resisted the childish urge to stomp his foot and demand his trash bag, because in all actuality, his arms felt like overcooked noodles at the moment. He would allow this one transgression, just this once. Let Phil carry his trash bag like a bitch if he really wanted to. 

They walked down the hallway in silence. Most of the lights were off in the surrounding offices, only the dim emergency lights lit the hallway to the elevators. The sky outside of the windows lining the wall was pitch black and Tommy wondered just how long he had slept. It was only a quarter past two when Trinity had dropped him off at Phil’s office. He wedged himself into the corner the moment they entered the elevator and Phil pressed the button for the parking garage. The car began its creaking decent with a jerk and Tommy gripped the handle along the wall. God, he hated elevators. 

“How long was I asleep?” He asked, breaking the quiet of the elevator car. Phil looked over at him and then down at his watch, humming in response. 

“About three hours. It’s half six now. I was planning on waking you earlier, but you looked like you needed the rest.” 

“Yeah, lot of good that fucking did.” Tommy mumbles back absently, crossing his arms across his chest. The elevator car jolts to a stop before Phil can reply and they make their way out into the underground parking garage. The smell of petrol makes his head hurt even more and he squeezes his arms tighter around himself. He can feel Phil looking over at him every now and again, but he steadily ignores him, staring down resolutely at his feet. 

Phil eventually comes to a stop at a small blue car, nothing fancy but still nicer than anything Tommy has ever ridden in before. He chucks his school bag into the backseat when Phil places his trash bag in and motions for him to do the same. He flops into the passenger seat and buckles himself in as Phil makes his way around to the drivers side. Tommy has to close his eyes as Phil maneuvers them out of the parking space and out of the garage, feeling suddenly nauseous. 

He can’t believe he had a fucking nightmare in front of Phil, not even three bloody hours after meeting him. He should have known falling asleep was a risky idea, but he had been so  _ tired. _ His nightmares had gotten better, was the thing. They used to be an every night ordeal the first few months after he found his mother. They varied in content, ranging from discovering her body to his father slitting Tommy’s own throat in place of his mothers. They always left him jumpy and anxious for days afterwards, like his father was going to jump from the shadows with a butcher knife. He had been lucky, up until now. No one had seen his post-nightmare panic before, not his foster parents, foster siblings or even Trinity. 

Phil should feel special, Tommy thought bitterly. 

“I should warn you,” Phil said suddenly, his voice quiet in the enclosed space, “I have two sons at home. Wilbur, my oldest, can be a bit...overbearing sometimes. Just tell him to piss off and he’ll leave you alone. Techno should be alright, he minds his own most of the time.” 

Tommy snorted, opening his eyes to look over at the older man. 

“Are you giving me permission to be a dick to your son?” He asked.

“I doubt you would need my permission, but no. I am saying you can set some boundaries. Wilbur can get over excited sometimes. I don’t usually bring my work home with me so this is a treat for them.” 

“They were your work at one point, weren't they? Trinity told me you adopted them.” Tommy said and Phil glanced over at him, smiling. 

“Yes, they were.” 

Tommy hummed in response, turning to look out the window as they took the M1 out of London and into the open countryside. It looked like a black sea outside of this window and he couldn’t help but shiver.

“Cold?” Phil asked mildly and Tommy shook his head, leaning back in his seat. He was still tired as hell, but he refused to go back to sleep. Who knew what kind of stupid shit his subconcious would make him see and one embarrassing episode in front of his bloody social worker was one too many. 

It was a long drive, almost an hour from London to some county called Elstree. Tommy zoned out for most of the ride, letting his forehead press against the cool glass of the window. Phil didn’t try to make him talk, which Tommy appreciated. He didn’t have enough energy to be polite and he was beginning to think Phil was a tough one to crack. All of his insults or rudeness would be brushed off with a kind smile and maybe a look of concern. Tommy knew if he saw that damn furrow between Phil’s eyebrows again, he could not be held responsible for his reaction. Namely hurling a number of clever jabs at the older man until that furrow was from anger instead of concern. Tommy knew how to deal with anger. He had not a single fucking clue on how to handle concern. 

It was past eight o’clock when Phil finally pulled down a long tree-lined driveway and stopped in front of an admittedly nice cottage home. Tommy had just managed to drag himself upright and open his eyes when the front door of the house burst open. Warm light spilled down the cobbled walkway, the majority of it blocked by a tall figure standing in the doorway. 

“That would be Wilbur. Don’t worry, I told him not to bombard you before dinner.” Phil said kindly beside him, before opening his door and getting out. Tommy sat for a minute, watching as Wilbur walked down the pathway and towards the car. He looked young, a mop of wild curls falling around his face. He was taller than Tommy and definitely taller than Phil. He walked like he was still getting used to having legs, almost like a baby deer in his lankiness. 

Tommy disliked him out of principle. 

Phil was opening the back door of the car when Wilbur finally made it to them. He was smiling widely at Phil, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his sweatpants. 

“Took you long enough.” Wilbur said and Phil laughed, hefting the trash bag out of the car and handing it off to Wilbur. 

“Traffic,” Phil said absently, “Take that in, please and put it in the guest room. Did Tech make dinner?” 

“Some kind of curry. Very spicy and actually, very delicious.” Wilbur said, already making his way back up the walkway. He turned as he made it to the front garden gate and suddenly, he was looking directly at Tommy through the windshield . The smile on his face grew and he raised his hand in a wave. Tommy realized that he was still sitting buckled into the car. He flushed and looked away from Wilbur, busying himself with unbuckling and opening his own door. Phil was coming around the boot, his school bag in hand. Tommy glanced back at the house in time to catch Wilbur stepping through the front door. 

“Curry sounds alright with you?” He asked, handing Tommy his bag. 

“Whatever.” He mumbled back. Phil watched him for a moment before turning and leading the way up to the house. Tommy almost stumbled over the cobbled walkway as a sudden feeling of fear washed over him. Fuck, he was just following behind Phil like some sort of lost puppy. He didn’t even know the man and yet he was about to be staying in his home, with his two sons for who knew how long and he didn’t even question it. Surely there was some group home Phil could have stuck him in until he found a placement. Trinity had never offered for him to stay with her, she had never even talked to him about anything other than his fuck ups at his foster homes. Yet Phil, having only met him five fucking hours ago, was invinting him to stay in his home. 

Maybe he was a pedophile. Or a murderer. Did he even inform anyone where Tommy was going to be staying? Weren’t there nine million bureaucratic channels he had to go through to get approval? Why couldn’t he have stayed with the Coltons? He was fine with them, he liked the Coltons. They fed him and didn’t lock him in closets, what more could he ask for? 

Tommy realized he had stopped walking, standing halfway up the pathway, his hands trembling as he clutched his school bag to his chest. He knew he was making a right arse of himself, he  _ knew he was overreacting _ . He knew it, but his stupid body couldn’t seem to keep up with his brain. He was stuck, staring blankly at the front of the house, his mind racing. There was nothing but forest around them, but maybe that would make it easier for him to hide ( _ he didn’t need to hide, he was fine-). _ He just had to run, he could climb a tree or something until morning and then find the nearest payphone. Call Trinity, curse her out for sending him off with a bloody fucking stranger and then beg her to come and get him. He could do that, he could run if only he could get his  _ stupid fucking legs to work.  _

Tommy didn’t notice Phil coming to stand in front of him until a hand tapped against his forearm. He flinched violently, stumbling back and away as he seemed to snap back into his body like a rubberband. Phil raised his hands in a calming gesture, his eyes watching Tommy intently. 

“Where did you go, Tommy? I lost you there for a minute. You’re alright, lad. Okay? You’re safe. Come on back now. You’re alright.” Phil’s voice was soft and soothing. Usually, he would be bristling at how Phil seemed to be coddling him, but he didn’t have the energy to care. He had dropped his school bag in his attempt to back away from Phil and he stared down at it, trying to get his limbs to move where he wanted them to. He blinked and suddenly Phil was crouched down on the walkway, putting himself in Tommy’s eyeline. Tommy watched with detached interest as Phil picked up his school bag and lifted it up behind him. 

There was a boy with long pink hair standing behind Phil on the walkway. 

Where the hell did he come from? Tommy had been staring at the front door, how the fuck hadn’t he seen him? What the fuck was wrong with him? He didn’t think the nightmare had been  _ that  _ bad, surely. He had had worse than this one and he never freaked out like he was now. Maybe he was finally going crazy. Maybe Linda was right, maybe he was a sociopath and this was the beginning of his descent into insanity. God, he was fucking  _ tired. _

Phil was speaking quietly with the pink haired boy, his voice so soft and lilting it almost put Tommy in a trance. 

“.....guest room, Techno. Thank you….stay with him til he is ready to move….might need Wilbur….go eat, son.” 

With a final nod, the boy walked back into the house carrying Tommy’s school bag. He glanced back over his shoulder once, his eyes meeting Tommy’s for a moment, before disappearing through the door. Phil turned back to face Tommy and he smiled warmly when he saw Tommy looking back at him. 

“Hey, Tommy. You’re okay, lad. You’re safe. We’re standing outside my house in Elstree. You’re safe. Techno cooked some curry for dinner and when you’re ready, we’ll go inside and have some. Take your time. Give me a nod, lad, if that’s alright.” 

Tommy’s mouth was so dry, his throat felt like it was rubbed raw. He couldn’t have responded even if he wanted to. He settled for jerking his head in an approximation of a nod. Phil nodded back and then stood there. His hands were clasped behind his back and he looked between Tommy and the trees at random intervals. Time seemed to stop moving and Tommy eventually stopped trying to keep track. 

Then, like a splash of cold water to the face, he could feel his body again. The tremble of his hands where they hung limply at his sides. The feeling in his legs was slowly coming back and he flexed his toes in his shoes. He winced at the sensation of pins and needles, moving on to roll his shoulders. He felt achy and exhausted, he was half tempted to lay down right there on the walkway. 

“Tommy?” Phil’s voice interrupted him before he could follow through and Tommy looked over at him. Phil smiled widely at him and he took a few steps towards Tommy slowly. 

“Are you back with me?” He asked and Tommy stared at him, uncomprehending before nodding. He hadn’t really gone anywhere, he was still standing in the same spot he had stopped in, but he guessed Phil was referring more to Tommy’s little zoning out session. It didn’t happen often, but he despised it when it did. 

“Good. Good, Tommy. I’m glad. Do you feel up to moving inside? It’s getting a bit cold out here.” Phil chuckled and Tommy cannot believe he ever thought this man was a murderer. How his stupid monkey brain had convinced him he was in very real danger from this man is beyond him. Phil didn’t even seem like the kind of person to kill a bug that gets in the house. He probably takes it outside and shit, instead of smooshing it with a shoe. 

“Dad?” 

Tommy whipped his head away from Phil to see Wilbur standing in the doorway. He was slouched over, leaning against the doorframe. He smiled crookedly at Tommy and gave him a little salute. 

“Alright there, Tommy? We put the curry away, it was getting cold. We can heat it back up for you, if you want. It’s really good.” Wilbur said. 

“Um, I-I’m not hungry. Sorry…” Tommy managed to mumble back. Wilbur shrugged good naturedly, pulling himself up to his full height and away from the doorframe. 

“Doesn’t hurt my feelings. I’ll heat you a bowl, Da. You got it from here?” 

“Yeah, all good, Wil. Thank you.” Phil smiled at his son and Tommy felt an ache in his chest he didn’t even want to acknowledge. 

The older man turned back to Tommy and grinned. 

“Let's head in. I’ll show you the guest room and you can sleep, if you’re not hungry. We’ll do proper introductions tomorrow, it’s late.” 

“What time is it?” Tommy croacked and Phil glanced at his wrist watch. 

“Almost half past nine.” He replied and Tommy felt his stomach knot. Almost two hours. He had lost almost two bloody fucking hours. What the hell was happening to him? 

Phil must have noticed he had tensed again because he raised a hand slowly and when Tommy just stared at him, rested it lightly on his shoulder before giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“You’ve had a lot of upset today, Tommy. Your routine was thrown off, it’s okay to feel overwhelmed.” Phil said and Tommy glared at him before yanking his shoulder out of his grip. 

“I’m not  _ overwhelmed.  _ Fuck off.” He snarled. 

“OKay, you’re not overwhelmed. Let’s go inside, Tommy. Come on.” Phil turned and led the way inside, finally. Tommy stayed where he was for a moment before moving to follow him into the warm house. The foyer was crowded with shoes and coats hanging on hooks. Phil threw his car keys into a small obviously handmade ceramic bowl on a long table pressed against the wall beside the door. He led Tommy through the house, pointing out the cozy looking living room with a massive flat screen and every gaming console known to man sitting underneath it. He briefly saw the kitchen as they passed by it on the way to the guest room. He could smell the sharp scent of spices and he sneezed. 

The room he was staying in was the last door on the left, tucked between Wilbur’s room and Phil’s. It was painted a soft grey and had a massive four poster bed taking up most of the space. A nightstand with a lamp and alarm clock was placed beside it. There was a closet across from the bed and his trash bag had been dumped inside in the far corner. 

“Bathroom is across the hall, next to Techno’s room. If you need anything, just knock on my door. I’m usually up late, so don’t hesitate. I mean it.” Phil said, watching Tommy from the doorway as he moved to sit on the bed. The mattress was soft and the dark green duvet was soft. Tommy ran his hand over it compulsively as he nodded. 

“I’ll leave you to it, then. Get some rest, Tommy. We’ll talk more in the morning, okay? Goodnight.” Phil smiled at him and Tommy was surprised to realize he didn’t mind it right now. Without thinking, he lifted his mouth in a small smile in return and Phil’s own smile grew until it took over his whole face. 

“Alright, then. Goodnight, Tommy.” Phil said and then he was gone, shutting the door behind him. 

Tommy let himself flop back onto the mattress and let the smile on his face slowly fall. He hadn’t made the best first impression with Phil and his sons today. He felt embarrassment curdle his stomach, but he pushed it away. 

Phil...Phil said it was  _ fine.  _

He said it was normal to lose two hours standing in a strangers front garden, planning how he was going to run away because his brain had convinced him he was walking into a serial killer's lair. Yeah, normal. Totally normal. 

Tommy sighed quietly before dragging himself up and silently changed out of his school uniform. He slipped out of his room and used the bathroom, chugged a gallon of water from the faucet before slipping just as silently back into his room. He pulled the duvet back and crawled into bed. 

He had made an arse of himself today, but tomorrow was a new day. 

He buried his face in his pillow and let himself fall into what he prayed would be a dreamless sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW// 
> 
> graphic description of a murder, panic attacks, discussion of inappropriate behavior towards a child by an adult (nothing graphic, but be safe), brief mention of child abuse (offscreen), disassociation. 
> 
> im really making tommy go through it, but next chapter will be....better. maybe. 
> 
> thank you so much for all the love, y'all! i appreciate you. 
> 
> drop a comment and a kudos if you feel like it so my ego can stay inflated!


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